


Miscalculation

by Wichi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Powers (Supernatural), Badass Castiel, Blind Castiel (Supernatural), Blind Character, Blood and Injury, Gen, M/M, One Shot, Protective Dean Winchester, Short One Shot, hurt/comfort if you squint, inspired by the Host
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22681612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wichi/pseuds/Wichi
Summary: When a witch’s spell burns away the angel’s eyes, Castiel is left with perpetually bleeding bandages over the empty sockets. He assures Sam and Dean his eyes will return in time, and requests they stop treating him like glass until they do. The hunters don’t oblige until a pack of monsters makes the mistake of underestimating the blind man.
Relationships: Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 106





	Miscalculation

The angel had always cut an intimidating silhouette, but since the fight with the witch, it was downright _unnerving._ Cas moved as he always did, in his not-quite-human manner. Quick stops, sudden changes, standing motionless in an empty room. From behind, he looked almost normal, save for the bandages cinched against his raven hair. 

Then he _turned._

The bandages that covered his eye sockets were not alarming when they were fresh. The unease manifested as time went on, and twin blots of scarlet would darken against pristine white until the fabric was sopping _red_. Rivulets would run down his cheeks, sometimes without his notice, until one of the hunters sat him down for a bandage change. It was almost always Dean.

Castiel did not walk with uncertainty, but the tilts of his head were more pronounced, more _prolonged_ , and callused hands always reached out to brush anything nearby.

“You’re feeling up the whole damn bunker, and you’re trying to tell me you aren’t _really_ blind!?”

Dean’s heated question earned only that trademark tilt before his gaze straightened, and the hunter swore he could _feel_ those empty sockets boring into his.

“I am not seeing the world through my _vessel_ , Dean. I need to be reminded where it is.”

Nothing the angel said would placate him. Not only was Cas unable to adequately explain his ability to perceive the world, Dean had been the one the witch had captured in the first place. None of them could have known she possessed the power to reverse a _smiting_ and project that devastating energy onto the angel that conjured it. Castiel was strong enough to stop its _completion,_ but it ended too late to keep Jimmy Novak’s eyes from burning away, and too soon to cauterize the wounds. The sockets now bled, slowly but perpetually, and would do so until the spell’s influence faded.

_“I’m_ _sorry,”_ Dean had whispered during one of the angel’s many bandage changes, voice low and rough, but Cas didn’t need to turn his head to catch the hunter’s arm before he could flee.

“I’m not. I’m the only one who could have survived it. I know it looks… bad. But this vessel is not my true self. I can still see, just. Not in a way I can explain.”

“Then why do you need me to change your damn bandages every few hours, huh!? If you can see so great and feel everything, how come you don’t notice the damn blood adding five pounds to your face!?”

The Seraph’s mouth faintly twitched into a wry smile, and he stood from the chair with his hand still wrapped around the hunter’s bicep.

“Because I’ve seen you when a loved one is hurting, and there’s _nothing_ you can do. I could change these bandages myself, but. Only one of us would heal.”

Dean had been so angered by that, Cas did not wait to be told to change them again hours later. When he felt blood trickle down his cheek, he’d made his way to the bathroom alone. And although he was well aware of Dean’s approach, callused fingers only fell away from the knot behind his head when the hunter gently brushed them aside. It was a stark contrast when every other muscle in Dean’s body was tense with _anger_ because Cas was right. Dean needed to do something to fix it.

He wished it ended with the bandages. 

Both men tended to pull him away from the furniture and walls to ‘lead’ him themselves, despite his increasing insistence they _stop._ Neither wanted to listen when he explained a blood transfusion wasn’t necessary because the rest of his body was not compromised, and his Grace was replenishing his veins on its own. If it wasn’t, he would have died several times before that argument even happened. 

If only to silence the matter once and for all, Castiel eventually announced he would join them on their latest case. Not a question, not a request, a statement of fact. He would join them. The angel could have predicted their responses down to the number of syllables. 

“No frickin’ way!”

“Cas, do you really think that’s a good idea?”

Even a seemingly open-and-shut vampire case made them balk. Perhaps Castiel had been compromised too many times in the past, or perhaps they’d just grown to see him as an enhanced human and not his true self. It didn’t take a surge of Grace to show them their _error_.

“Sam. Dean. I am an _angel of the Lord_. I was _ancient_ before the dust that formed this world began to gather. Why would you ever think I need the eyes of a human vessel to _see?”_

That earned uncomfortable shifts, jaws opening and closing, cowed heads dipping low. Not ten minutes later, the Seraph was settled comfortably in the back seat of the Impala. 

Their cases were never open and shut. The deaths were not that of a vampire, but a Nachzehrer. A small and ancient pack of them that apparently grew bored enough to drawn in hunters as their preferred prey. It went against their low-profile tendencies, but Castiel had watched younger creatures than these be driven mad by the relentless force of _time._

The hunters had met their match, Nachzehrer could only be killed by decapitation with a piece of copper in their mouth. A difficult enough task with one, let alone _six_ , but Sam and Dean fought with everything they had. They fought as if the angel wasn’t even there.

They were reminded when the alpha seized the blind man by the shoulders and sank his fangs into the exposed throat.

“Get your fucking hands off him, _CAS!”_ Dean’s bellow broke through the sound of battle. The alpha laughed as the fight ground to a standstill, and Cas grimaced at the feeling of venom pushing through his veins. Dean’s face was stark with horror and Sam’s was twisted with _rage._

“Odd choice,” the alpha mused, tightening his grip on the angel, “bringing a blind man here. Don’t worry about him, we’ll show him the light. And when he’s one of us, we’ll let him eat you first.”

The only sound that followed was a low chuckle. The alpha turned to the man who should be writhing by now, only to watch the bite heal and vanish against his skin. He reeled back and away from Cas, uncertainty darkening his features as those bloody bandages turned and seemed to stare directly into his undead soul.

“Actually. It was the blind man’s idea. And your own _miscalculation_.”

A callused hand outstretched, and an unseen force dragged the alpha forward. He belatedly tried to dig his heels, but it did nothing to stop this throat from landing in the angel’s grasp. Strangulation wouldn’t kill a Nachzehrer, but instinct still had it writhing against that hold, and when its turned packmates tried to intervene, they found themselves frozen in place. 

“Frankly, the method of killing you individually is exhausting. And I will admit, I’m not feeling altruistic enough to spare your ancient, murdering family.”

The alpha snarled against his hand, pulling and clawing at his wrist to no avail. Even Sam and Dean were frozen, though their chests heaved from the battle. 

“I don’t need a coin. I don’t need a knife. I don’t need a _shred of humanity_ to remind your broken body thatit’s _already dead_.”

Sam and Dean instinctively turned, shut their eyes, and hunkered as that high-pitched ring of Grace consumed their entire world. Blinding light poured from Castiel’s palms, and his free hand pressed against the alpha’s forehead to the sound of the monster’s _screams._ To the sound of _every monster’s screams_.

It seemed like an eternity before the angel’s power withdrew, leaving the trio in nothing but silence and the stench of smoldering flesh. The hunters cautiously opened their eyes, and the remains they found were barely recognizable as bodies. Cas remained exactly where they’d seen him last, and a hand absently brushed the ash that coated his palm against his coat.

“I think we’re done here.”

Sam cleared his throat and nodded, sliding a machete back into its sheath. 

“Yeah, I’d say so. Good one, Cas.”

The angel turned his bandaged face to the pair with a chilling smile, but the fabric was soaked to the point where blood was running down his face and pooling in his collar. Dean winced and shook his head, waving for the blind vessel to follow.

“Alright, you made your point, you’re not fragile. Now get over here so I can change your bandages, you’re not getting blood in my car.”

Sam clapped Castiel’s shoulder as he passed, and Cas returned the gesture. Aside from the ritual of bandages, life in the bunker would return to normal.

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive the bad photoshop icon, I did my best. Kudos to anyone who understands the reference.


End file.
